The way back
by KZ777
Summary: Spanding so much time with each other and no one else was not easy. Lonely even. Neither knew how to be a friend. But they had a lot of time to learn… Diaval/Maleficent
1. Touch

**This is my first time. Will be happy to hear comments. A few more chapters are already on their way.**

**I own nothing.**

Touch

There was a very strict rule about touching: there will be no touching.

When Diaval was first turned human, he still had many of his bird habit, one of which was the chatter. Birds are not able to communicate complex content and emotions using words, but they do make a lot of noise sometimes. They need to declare their presence, establish their place in the group, check how their are ranked among their peers.

Diaval talked with his mistress. He used his newly acquired intelligence to speak - with humor, irony, an attempted smile, to continue to do just as birds do - establish being part of a group, even if a small one.

But there will be none of that with his mistress. She did not laugh at his jokes. No eye contact. No reply. All she ever told him were orders. Orders and an occasional statement of her dark plans and thoughts - but he was not expected to respond. This was not a conversation.

If not to talk then to touch.

Once after giving her some news she was not happy to hear there was a silence. Was she thinking about her next move? He placed his hand on her arm. She pushed it away so quickly and with such strength that his breath was caught in his lungs.

"_Never _touch me!"

Her eyes pierced through him with a fire that made him take one step back. He was truly afraid. But it was over faster then it started. While he was thinking what to do next, her eyes were already looking past him, to some point in the distance, and she was back to talking about how she will find a way to _hurt_ _him, _the human king, not Diaval.

She of course touched him as much as she wanted. When he was in his feathered form she would often pat his feathers. Even hold him. Place him where it was most comfortable for her, on her shoulder or on a branch next to her hand, so she can continue to stroke him while thinking out loud.

There were two occasions in which the rule that forbade him touching her was broken.

The first happened just a few months after he became her servant. He flew back from the king's castle. It was winter and the wind blew hard dragging him side ways. It took all his strength to fight it and keep flying straight to where his mistress was waiting. Just when he approached her the wind suddenly changed, and as she turned him into his human form he was pushed forward by the wind. Exhausted as he was, he fell directly at her. She moved.

She did not help him retain his balance, but moved. His shoulder brushed her side, between her stomach and her ribs, as he fell on the ground. Turning around he saw her hand placed on the area where he touched her, and her face showed an expression of mixed disgust and anger. But it lasted only one second. She then demanded to know the information he obtained. No question or comment were spoken about the incident.

The second occasion in which he touched her was more dramatic.

It was the third anniversary of Stefan's rise to power as a king, and there was a grand celebration in the castle, or what looked like it from where she was standing - on an edge of a cliff overlooking Stefan's kingdom, right by the dead oak tree - it's dry roots around her feet.

She saw the bright lights in the castle. Soon Diaval will be back telling her all about the celebrations - the ladies, music, food, and all the bright objects that he saw. _Oh, his love of bright and shiny objects._ It's as if he can talk forever. Do I really need to hear about all these things I don't care about? she thought. Why can't he only tell me the things I do want to hear? But it is so hard to extract information sometimes, and I must always listen to it all - one can never know where an important piece of information may lie.

Maybe I can teach him, her thoughts continued. Explain slowly how to not bother me with lengthy descriptions. But this option meant that she herself would have to lengthily describe something to him. Probably more than once. And if there was anything she liked less then his voice, it was the sound of herself speak. Right then there was a load crow. She woke up from her own thoughts and turned around. Two soldiers were right in front of her - the one that's closer already had his sword up in the air.

The two soldiers were doing their routine patrol when they saw the dark horned figure standing silently with her back to them. They were young, and thought this can be an opportunity to stand out. Deep in thoughts, she did not hear them sneaking up on her, and had it not were for this revan appearing from nowhere, screaming, the sword would hit her right in the neck.

But she turned around and had just the time to raise a hand in self defence. The sword hit her arm and cut deep to the bone. She felt a gush of blood and a burning pain. Truly burning - the sword was made of iron, and cutting so deep, she could smell her own flesh burning. Diaval lunged downwards towards the soldier as he saw his mistress taking one step back - but there was no place for her to place her foot. It was the edge of the cliff and she fell.

While falling she raised the hand that was not injured and said - _fire_. Immediately the grass beneath the soldiers was caught in flames. The fire spread in an unnatural speed in a large circle from where they were standing, and they had no choice but run. The revan still circling high in the sky above their heads.

The fire burned out quickly. It did not affect the grass, the tree, or any of the plants, like lighter liquid blown out of the mouth of a magician in some country fair. Maleficent was holding on with her healthy arm onto a root of the oak tree that was sticking out of the cliff wall a few feet below the edge. Her feet struggling to find some hold against the rugged wall. Diaval landed on the cliff right above her. She raised her aching hand, just a few fingers really - '_to a man'._

He was careful not to fall as well. Down on his knees, body bent down, he was struggling to reach her. She could not leave her hold on the root of the tree, so she had to raise the arm that was hit but the soldier's sword. With his right hand he grabbed her, and as he did so, he felt it moist with blood, and heard her try to control the shriek of pain escaping her mouth. He held her elbow and pulled her up a bit, only enough so she can throw her second hand around his neck. He placed his left arm around her, on her back, and like this he was finally able to pull her up completely.

He needed to catch his breath. She was much lighter than he thought, but still, not easy to pull up like this. And he was already tired after the long flight. They both were on their knees, facing each other. He was slightly taller, still holding her, as she was leaning against him, her arm still around his neck, her head and upper body against his chest. But it did not last long. He quickly removed his arms from her and froze. She pulled away and closed her eyes. There was no need for the green magic she usually used. Since it was her own wound she had to heal, all she needed was a few moments to look inside and guide her healing powers.

He was painfully aware of how close she was to him that moment. Though she was in her own world, her head was a few inches from his face. She smelled of flowers mixed with sweat, but he was careful not to breath in too much. And it was over. She placed a hand on his shoulder, helping herself to get up on her feet. 'Find me my staff Diaval. I want to see if I have two burnt corpses on my hands, or if my work still needs to be done'. She started walking expecting him to follow.

It took him a few seconds. He never thought what she meant when she said her wings were taken away. He knew it had to do with king Stefan, of course, but _how_. Maybe he imagined it as some magic. Just like he was transformed to be a man and then a bird again, she was transformed to be with no wings. It hit him now - it was not painless. On her back, as he pulled her up, he felt the stubs. They were pressed against her heavy garment, but he felt them. They were _moving_. Only slightly. Maybe because the muscles operating them are still used to assist in any form of physical challenge. Her wings were cut off. Brutally cut.

Oh and the humiliation. Having to be pulled up by a man. Dragged on the ground to safety. His fingers touched the ground. His legs felt heavy. Made of stone. He knew what wings meant.

She was a cripple. He felt pain in his back, where his wings would be as a revan. The pain quickly moved to his stomach and he felt he was about to faint.

'Diaval!'

But he had no time for that. He got up and ran.

That night she chose to sit under the tree overlooking the cottage, and not on one of the branches as she usually did. Maybe her hand was still sore. She was almost completely with her back to him, and he was staring at her for long minutes. He did not say anything all day. She did not ask about the celebrations. Trying to be amusing felt out of place right now.

She raised her staff and planted it back hard on the ground right next to her right foot.

'There! A cockroach! do you want it?'

She knew how much he loved to eat them. As a man he could catch the bigger ones - the ones that always got away from him as a bird. They made the best sound as he chewed them with his human teeth. But she never allowed him to so much as admit to eating them. He was not sure this was not a trap.

'Well? Do you want it? Im not going to hold it much longer you know.'

He slowly walked to her side, carefully bent down and placed his hands around the place where her staff met the ground. She sharply removed it and the bug was in his hands. A big one.

Still not sure what to do he walked back to where he was before. Standing behind her at safe distance, making sure she is not looking, he placed the entire insect in his mouth. It was surprising to him she did not like it. How else can one survive? Maybe if she tried it she would love it. May even make her feel better, he thought, as he bit down on the poor creature still moving in his mouth.

'You were silent all day. Was there anything you wanted to say?' her green eyes were looking right at him.

He couldn't answer immediately, with mouth full and all, and she turned back from him.

He swallowed.

'If someone would cut of my wings, I would want to have you by my side, mistress'.

This was the first time he spoke like a human. Saying something that was true.

A long pause.

'Well, I do have me. And you. Diaval. Thank you'.

This felt good.

'Would you… like to… hear about what I saw in the castle today? There were many things to eat, but also so many people there. All with their shiny jewels.. The women with their rings and..'

'Stop. Go steal the lamp from the house before the idiots drop it again and burn another hole in the roof. I dont want to be preoccupied with anything while taking in all this information.'

He smiled back at her. 'Yes, mistress.'


	2. Sleep

**I own nothing.**

Sleep

After Maleficent lost her wings, there were so many things she couldn't do again. Sleep was one.

She needed her wings to sleep. She used to cover herself entirely with her beautiful, big, comforting wings, A blanket hiding her from the rest of the world. In the summer, it was never too hot - one wing covering her face from the light, the other covering her entire body. They retained the cool air of the night between the feathers and allowed her to continue her naps long after the rest of the Moor creatures were awake. In the winter, needles to say, they were not _like _a blanket - there _were _a blanket.

Without her wings, no place or surface could be comfortable, and no weather was ever good.

She used to fly so high, and so much, that in the evenings she was always tired, and sleep came easily. Now she was also tired - having to walk so much, moving her heavy limbs - but it was not the good and happy fatigue she was used to. She was always _painfully_ tired.

At nights she used to dream, flying and then falling. Or she used to try to move her wings in her sleep. Or it just felt like their were sore - as if they are still there.

As time progressed she dreamt less about her wings, and more about the other horrors she surrounded herself with. Stefan, on his knees, a curse, a baby struggling for air, sometimes already dead, soldiers in iron armour, painful iron on her own body, Diaval - all were present in her nightmares.

As a bird, he had no trouble sleeping. As a man he did not know how.

If she left him in his human form for the night he used to try to lay down on the ground and sleep. But how? On his back he felt it is to hard to breath. On his stomach - did not know what to do with his hands. On his side - he did not know where to place his head. And it was cold. He needed to find something to cover himself with each night. Maleficent's body was much like his. But learn from her how to sleep? It would be smarter to ask a rock to teach you how to fly.

He heard her tossing and turning every night. If he was in his raven form it took a bit longer, but he did wake up eventually, and just crow. She would then be quiet, turn around and try to sleep again. As a man every little sound woke him up. He would make sure it really was her, and not some dogs barking in the distance, or a particular human baby cry, and then he would say

'Are you alright, mistress?'

With time he learned not to do that. Especially after that day when his hand touched the stubs on her back. He felt embarrassed waking her up from her nightmares, pointing out her weaknesses. So he would say 'Indeed a cold night, mistress', or 'Mistress, did those dogs wake you up as well?'

Those methods evolved. Before going to sleep he collected walnuts, and if he wanted to wake her up he would loudly crack one open. He knew that she woke up because she was quieter when she was awake. and then he would say -

'Should I crack one up for you? Here have mine. And it will make us thirsty, so I'll go find something to drink.'

Standing up he would raise his hand, and she reached a hand downwards from her branch, taking the food and then the water. They were both careful and usually their fingers did not have to touch.

More and more she chose to leave him in his human form at night.


	3. Speak

**Sorry for the delay in publishing this. I do have a day job..**

**I own nothing.**

Speak

They walked to their tree overlooking the cottage. She decided not to climb it this time, but instead to sit on the ground below it. Her hand, where the soldier's sword cut her just a few hours ago, was no longer aching, but it still did not feel right. As if out of place somehow. Actually, her entire body felt out of place. When she fell off that cliff she was not sure she will be able to grab on to anything. She would be the only fairy ever finding her death by falling.

Nothing was right, and Diaval did not help restore normality by being so out of character today. So quiet.

She was too shaken up to even try to climb a tree. She had enough humiliation for one day. She set on the ground below it.

It was not hard to find the soldiers that attacked her. They did not run far enough. If they would try to reach their friends maybe they would be safe, but instead they decided they must find a way down the cliff, to see if the evil fairy did fall off. Maybe she was dead, or wounded and they could finish the job. And in anyway when reporting of the incident it would be important to know how the story ended.

She found them when they were just about to climb down a rocky path they found.

'So you are looking for a way down?'

Turning around it was evident by the horror on the it faces that it would not take much for them to die right there and then. It did not take much longer. She floated them in the air, first closer to her, so she could look them in the eyes, before floating them back, over the edge of the cliff. And then she let go. A whistle sound of the fall, and then two short thumps, one after the other.

_Shame_ was the word that went through her mind. She was not sure if it actually crossed her lips.

Shame indeed. If killing was an art form, this was a very minimalistic piece. Too civilized.

What she really wanted was to scream. And hear them scream. Begging for mercy. She wanted to have sharp teeth and claws to tear their faces and bodies apart. To smell their blood together with their fear. Or to be much weaker. To have them hurt her with their sharp irons, before she hurts them back. She wanted to kill slower. In a much more _lasting_ way.

Some part of her wanted to scream all the time.

Another part just wanted quiet from it all. From thoughts. From thinking. Sleeping would be nice if it wasn't for the dreams. She wanted quiet from everything surrounding her. The Moors were becoming unbearable. You could never find a place to be alone, and even if you could, the air there was so filled with life it could almost hurt her teeth. The pixies, the baby, the singing of birds. And Diaval. Always by her side. So… _faithful_.

She sometimes felt she had a black blanket separating her from everyone around. So much that it was hard for her to understand his words. If he was walking on the ground she was miles below him, in a swamp filled with mud and rotten leaves. And when she struggled to listen to him speak she would just sink deeper. Sometimes that was all she wanted.

He was in-discourageable. He talked and she walked away. He joked and she turned him to a dog. She looked away. She taunted him. Ignored him. But she also ordered him to follow, and he obeyed.

In moments of lucidity she was grateful to him, and she knew how cruel she is. Those where the mornings when she shared her food with him, and the evenings when she made him a new set of clothes, cut his hair, or held him as a raven, stroking his beautiful long feathers. All creatures need to be touched sometimes. It was not much but she gave him what she could. I made him human after all, she thought.

But he was quiet for half a day now. Maybe he is thinking that now that he also saved her life he is free to go. She fought the urge to look back to see if he was still there. But he was, she could feel his eyes on the back of her neck. She still felt his touch on her back from when he pulled her up that cliff. He now knows just how pathetic he is. It's one thing to be enslaved by someone strong, but to be a servant of someone weak? He must feel so stupid. Why doesn't he speak his mind? She herself could not. One of those days she could not talk to anyone of fear that they talk back. But she can give him this…

'There! A cockroach! do you want it?'

She did not turn and there was no reply.

'Well? Do you want it? Im not going to hold it much longer you know.'

He walked to her side and took the insect from underneath her staff.

He went back to where he was before, far from her, but she could still hear the shell of the poor creature crack in his mouth. Well if I can hear it all the way here, it must be the only thing he hears right now. So now she turned to him -

'You were silent all day. Was there anything you wanted to say?' her green eyes were looking right at him.

She gave him a moment to answer and turned back. That's enough. She asked. No need to get an answer.

'If someone would cut off my wings, I would want to have you by my side, mistress'.

Good thing she was with her back to him because her jaw dropped. This was the one most unexpected thing he could have said.

She wanted to tell him that if his wings were cut off they would both be dead like the helpless creatures that they are. But if his wings were cut off before they met, then he would just be a dead raven and she wouldn't know nor care.

'Well, I do have me. And you. Diaval. Thank you'.

This felt good.

'Would you… like to… hear about.. '

He was going to start telling her all about his day at the castle. She sent him on a meaningless task. She wiped her tears and took another breath.

When he came back she was sitting still. He now had so much more to tell her, about the castle _and _ the pixies in the cottage below. He set a few feet away and started talking. She leaned against the tree and listened, until she fell asleep.

So peaceful, he thought. This will not last long. And he had to admit, she is so beautiful.


	4. Laugh

**I own nothing.**

Laugh

They safely returned the princess to the cottage where she lived with her 'aunties', as she called them, and were now walking back to the spot inside the wall of thorns where they last left the group of soldiers Maleficent was playing with.

Diaval wasn't sure what he thought about her game. She was floating the poor soldiers in the air, smashing them against each other. Well, _poor soldiers._ He had no sympathy for them when they chased him around, or tried to hurt his mistress. But he did not like the look of terror on their faces.

Her face on the other hand. Such mixture of joy and cruelty. She almost seemed happy, and he could never look away when she was smiling. Even an evil smile.

But that was long forgotten. Event the snow that penetrated his shoes did not mean much to him right now. He couldn't hold it in much longer.

'Oh _fairy Godmother_ ...' He did not have to continue.

'Shut up'

'But fairy Godmother...' He laughed. 'Fairy Godmother!'

'To a dog' she said but did not transform him. Enough to make him quiet, at least for a moment.

He opened his mouth to say something more but she interrupted. 'We will not speak of this again.'

He was still amused. Her threats didn't scare him as before - he will not bring up the subject again, but she can not stop him from smiling.

'It's there' he said, pointing to an opening between the thorns.

'How do you know?'

'The birds, mistress. The soldiers were eating when we found them, and there are birds there now, you see?'

'Have the stupid birds mistaken my thorns to be a forest?'

'Birds are not stupid, mistress.' He said, and added more quietly 'to them it is a forest.'

She did no reply. There are things even she could not change. Some creatures have it in their nature to be blind to evil.

He was right, and they found the soldiers' abandoned camp. A thin layer of snow already covered some of the things they left behind when they ran away from the _dog_. Diaval was looking carefully through their bags, while Maleficent just picked up each bag and turned it around to scatter its contents on the snow. Unlike Diaval she could not afford to stick her fingers inside. Why risk touching something that may hurt her.

'I found something for you' she said.

One of the soldiers kept a big book in his bag, with many pages. She noticed Diaval had a new habit recently. He made sketches and small drawings of simple thing he saw. He mostly painted on tree barks using coal from their camp fires, but sometimes he drew on wood or even small stones. He was very concentrated when he did that, and being able to produce a decent outcome made him very excited. Paper would be useful. Who cares if it already has letters on it.

'I also found something.' He showed he an ear of corn, still wrapped in some green leaves.

'What is this?'

'It corn. I've seen them eat it. Ill show you.'

They took an empty bag and filled it with their loot. Diaval proudly placed the bag across his chest like the soldiers do. She gave him one of her sardonic smiles, and they went back to their castle, where they used to spend the winters.

She lit a campfire with a flick of her fingers, and they set next to it. Both shaking the snow from their shoulders. When she thought he did not look she shook her head, trying to remove some stubborn snow flakes from between her horns.

'I need some wooden stick to skewer the corn and place it over the fire, mistress. Can you make something like that?' He asked.

'Come'. With her long white fingers she ordered him to get closer and took the corn from his hand. She then took a small twig from the ground, but in her hands it turned into a long, thin and pointy stick, which she easily ran right through the center of the cob.

'Like this?' she asked with a smile.

He smiled back. Of course she could make something like that. _Of course_.

He set by her and held the corn above the flames of their small fire.

'Well?'

'You have to wait.'

'I dont like waiting' she said with her indulgent voice.

'I know.'

'You know everything, don't you' she said after a while.

'Not everything mistress' He looked at her as she was staring into the flames.

'Not everything, fairy Godmother', he said with a smile.

She looked back at him. Their eyes met. He thought that recently sadness was the emotion most fit to describe his mistress, and looking into her eyes he knew that he was right.

POP. The sound surprised both of them. POP.

The corn flakes were beginning to pop one after the other, jumping all around them. Diaval gave her the stick he was holding and started running around collecting the popped corn, to the sound of her laughter.

She laughed so hard while he was doing this, that she had tears in her eyes, and her side was almost beginning to hurt. She laughed whole minutes after the corn stop popping, expecting it to continue every minute. He set by her side again.

'You see? I told you.'

'Indeed so.' She said, collecting herself. Then she lifted her hand and moved her fingers through his hair. He felt her touch from the top of his head running down his spine. He wasn't sure but it felt like his toes and fingertips were hurting.

'What are we going to do with this now?' she asked. He did not know how to answer.

'Diaval?' she was holding the piece of corn she found in his hair right in front of him.

'Oh, this..' he recovered quickly. 'We eat it.'

'You can't be serious! ' She threw all the flakes he collected back to the fire. 'Lets see if it pops again!'


	5. The way back

**I own nothing.**

The way back

Diaval was sitting on a small hill not far from the water's edge. The sun was setting and the surface of the small stream running through this part of the Moors was shining with bright colors. The soft light also fell upon the flowers and the trees around the stream, making each leaf and flower stand out in it's most beautiful form. Diaval was trying to copy some of this wonder into the new notebook Aurora gave him, using his new pencils and colorful chalks. It was a modest gift from the new queen of both the Moors and the human kingdom, but a very thoughtful one, showing how much their young girl knew and cared about him.

He was so concentrated in his work that he hardly noticed Maleficent hovering over him, when she finally landed on the water's edge. With her back to him, her magnificent wings obstructed the entire view.

'Mistress, would you please move even slightly to the left?'

'But this is where I always sit. I'll be on my way soon.'

'I know.. But the sun is setting now.. later it won't be the same.'

'Dont be stupid Diaval. It will set again tomorrow and it _will_ be the same.' She said dryly.

This somehow did not amuse him. He set there for a few more minutes, and then she heard him gather his painting equipment back into his small bag and walk away.

She did not remember this ever happening before. She always joked like this. He never walked away, her servant who still called her 'mistress'. He must be aware of how he saved her life just a few months ago in Stefan's castle. He must be aware of the many times before when she would not have been able to do without him. She never thought that he was stupid. He must know that his debt to her is paid. He must be thinking about this everyday, like she does.

Diaval found a new place, on one of the high branches of a large tree overlooking the Moors. The last rays of sun were disappearing behind the mountains, but he was not painting. He lost interest after Maleficent chased him away from the previous spot he chose. He heard the flap of large wings above his head. She just can't leave him alone today can't she? He closed his eyes. Soon he will be overcome by a smell of flowers and rosemary, together with the light breeze she creates around her when she flies. She allows him sometimes to tend to her wings. He uses small twigs of rosemary to calm the feathers. It gives them a glow as well as a very delicate but unmistakable scent.

He felt his branch moving as she landed next to him.

'This branch is too high for you when you are human. Did you think what can happen if you fall?'

He opened his eyes. He did not hear this tone of voice for a very long time. But he tried to keep the light atmosphere. 'You would catch me mistress'.

'I was not even around. You would die.'

'Diaval', She continued without giving him the time to think 'You are free to go.'

'Go where mistress?' He was working very hard to ignore what she was saying and keep a smile on his face, but he could already feel his heart beating faster, and a hard rock settling above his stomach, making it hard to swallow.

'Go. Anywhere your heart desires. Dont worry, I will not leave you with nothing. Though you are no longer my servant, I will grant you the ability to change your own form. You will be a very powerful creature. You will no longer need me just as I no longer need you.'

Was she smiling? Is that what _she_ is thinking? Is that what _she_ wants? She does not need me anymore? The branch they were both sitting on did feel too high for him right now. He was missing his claws to hold on to it, and his wings to fly away. He was never afraid of heights before, but now his choice seemed so foolish. Why did he have to climb so high?

'What does it have to do with need?' The anger in his voice surprised him and he forced himself to calm down before he could continue.

'I lived on crumbs you gave me. I worked so hard. You were always almost smiling. Almost happy. And now that you have your wings, that you allow yourself to wear your hair loose, that you allow yourself to just..' he had to take a break for air 'be in the sun. And smile. And we can fly together. Now you ask me to leave? You don't need me anymore?' He was somewhere between shouting and crying. Tears were already in his eyes.

'Fine.' She was examining the darkening horizon. 'You may stay. But promise me you _will_ leave. When this... the sun in my hair' the nonchalance in her voice was turning into mockery, with a hint of disdain, 'when my smile and my wings are no longer enough for you. Do you promise you _will_ leave?'

'Yes'

'This is not a promise!' she turned to him. She was loud. Her voice was heard, almost metal, and she pointed a long finger at him. Her face was so close to his he could smell her breath. 'When this is not enough for you, you will leave. No turning back, no asking my permission, no regrets, no apologies. You will go! Now promise!'

When she was like this there was no way to refuse her.

She leaped off the branch and disappeared almost at the very moment when he said 'I promise'.

He was such a fool. Well, the first reason is that ever since he declared that he wants nothing but _the sun in her hair_ - his words were so confusing and came out of him with such emotion that this was all she could remember - he never even looked at her. In Fact he made sure to never be around her. She saw him from above, she knew he did not leave yet, but it seemed that he deliberately stayed in places she hardly visited, and whenever she came near he just disappeared.

And the second reason she thought he was a fool, was her strong feeling that with his words, the freedom that he took to express himself, he ruined something.

She found him. He was sleeping underneath a tree in a pile of dry leaves. He was on his side, so curled up that his knees almost touched his chest.

She remembered another time she saw him sleeping like this. It was the night when they saved Aurora and she got her wings back. Aurora was struggling to keep her fathers army from avenging him and killing the evil fairy and her shape shifting creature. While Aurora was speaking to her men Maleficent did all she could to show remorse and submission. She turned Diaval back to human, his most vulnerable form. He was kneeling, and she realized he was so wounded it would be hard for him to stand up.

After Aurora talked her men down from their intention to kill them, and then to prison them, they were taken to a small room where they will be kept for the next two days, until finally Aurora was able to free them completely.

The room had almost no furniture, just a bad and one small chair. Maleficent held Diaval's arm as they walked there, and still it took him all the strength he had left. As soon as the door was closed behind them he collapsed on the floor, almost taking her down with him. He laid on his back in visible pain from the wounds that were inflicted to him as a dragon. All the fingers in his right hand were broken, and his arms and chest had many cuts and open wounds. His right leg had a big burn wounds which she saw only later that night.

But she could not stay with him. She overcame the pain of touching iron and was able to open a window and leave. She was very careful not to be discovered, hovering close to the castle walls, until she found Aurora. Through a window she watched her talking to the soldiers, until finally their commander kneeled before her, showing his acceptance of her as the new sovereign. His men followed. She still felt uneasy, not being able to hear what they are saying or follow them further, but this was all she could do.

When she returned to their room Diaval was still on the floor, just as before. She was momentarily alarmed, until she saw that his was breathing, and then she was angry with herself for leaving him like this for too long. She knelt by him. 'Diaval?' He groaned at her. 'Silly bird', she tried to be as calm as possible, 'Where do you want me to start?'

But he did not answer, so she started with his broken hand, holding it and tracing each finger with her hand, mending them one by one. She continued to his chest, opening his shirt, making sure no cut was left behind. Then his face. He had some wounds around his lips, and she wanted to make sure there will be no scarring. Then his hands, his thighs. She turned him around, and cut his pants from the bottom up to his knees. This was enough to be able to feel the full length of his legs with her hands. After that she realized she never saw his feet, and she took off his black shoes.

By now he was awake, looking at her. 'Are you less in pain now?'

'Yes mistress. We did it.'

'We sure did.' And they smiled at each other with relief.

They spent the next two days in this room. He was sleeping in the bad, resting from his wounds. He was all curled up, with shallow breathing, and every now and then she fixed the blankets again over him. This was the same position he had now, sleeping under the tree.

She remembered it now. Thinking how much time she spent looking at him those two days, she herself unable to sleep. She remembered how this was the first time she noticed his wide shoulders, but she did not give it much thought then. She enjoyed the warmth of his body when she touched him. She hanged on his smile. She was reassured that things will be fine, because _they did it_, as he so simply put it.

She was watching him breathing. The pain subdued, and he was taking deeper breaths. She was watching his face, and his shut eyes. Even though he hardly spoke, she was so happy she wasn't there alone. She never thought about it again untill now.

And his stupid faces when he painted. His fingers on her feathers. He made her laugh. How he always stopped laughing first, and looked at her until she calmed down. And always smiled.

Recently it was hard for her to be around him. It seems like the distance between them was always too wide, and there was always something more she wanted him to say. There was always something unspoken which she kept postponing for a later time.

She thought she had time. Much more time. She had to walk a very long way back to be who she once was. And she will never be able to walk it fully, so she needed more time. Time he took from her with his foolish statement.

But it was all her doing. She told him to go. She just did not think what will happen next. She was overcome with the need to 'rearrange' things. The way they were was becoming unbearable.

She fought the urge to touch his face, so she stood up and walked away. She set on a fallen tree where he was almost out of her sight, but she could still see him.


	6. Touch again

**I own nothing.**

Touch again

He woke up. Recently he wasn't sleeping very well, unable to go to any of the trees that he was accustomed to. He missed her, but at the same time he was determined to stay as much away from her as possible. There should be no hint of him seeking her presence.

Each time he woke up in the past few days he felt more tired than he was when he laid down, so much that if it wasn't for the movement of the sun and and moon in the sky he could not even be sure that he _was_ asleep. But this time when he woke up it was not even close to morning. It was dark. He set up in his place. He saw the shape of two horns, attached to a large winged creature sitting in the distance between the trees, but in the dark, with the moon hidden by the forest surrounding them, he was not sure if it wasn't just his imagination.

He approached her. 'Mistress is that you?'

She answered but he could not hear. He walked closer until he saw her clearly right in front of him.

'Come sit by me Diaval' She said.

She was sitting on an old fallen tree. It wasn't very big, so he had no choice and set very close to her. They both set next to each other not speaking a word or moving a muscle, before she reached out and held his hand.

At first she only touched his fingers slightly, but very quickly she held it in her palm. He didn't move. Even when she turned around to his direction and placed another hand on his, he was controlling his breaths to still keep breathing in the same normal pace as before.

They set like this for what seemed to be very long minutes. It did not become more comfortable or less awkward. He did not look at her although he saw her in the corner of his eye, facing him.

'The peaches that you waited for are ripe now with no one to pick them', She said. 'Are you hungry?'

'I am, as much as I am tired. And its dark.'

'Then come in the morning' It was a statement as much as it was a plea.

He said 'I will', and she stood up and left. He saw her feathers disappear between the shadows of the trees. She also was not able to take the tension of the moment or prolong it any more.

He didn't sleep, and not long after dawn he approached the group of peach trees growing at the side of one of the grass covered hills of the moors.

She was sitting not directly beneath any of the trees but in some distance, so the long shadows they cast in this hour of the morning do not fall on her. She was wearing a light gown, and the sun was shining on her long brown hair, which was spread loosely on her shoulders. Next to her were peaches she already picked before he came.

It was some time now that he noticed that his raven admiration of bright objects has evolved to human admiration of beauty. He loved everything that is beautiful, and was able to find beauty in almost every creature, plant or object. Her beauty, in the soft light of early morning, was one he could not resist.

His heart missed a bit when he first saw her. Once for her beauty, and again for the realization that she planned this. He set by her, not having the courage to look directly at her.

He wanted to take one of the fruits, but he knew that as soon as he will bite it will burst with juice, that will spill on his hand and arm. He usually enjoyed this, but it would embarrass him right now. She placed her hand on his shoulder. It was not a hug. Just a hand on his shoulder. He felt it's weight on him for a few moments until she let it slide down his back, and then she took it away.

Then she spoke in such a low voice he was not sure he heard anything at all. 'You know that if you leave you might as well take my wings with you.'

He turned his eyes to her but she continued looking down at her hands. 'It's alright Diaval, I dont need another promise from you. This is just a statement of the power you have to hurt me.'

'And what about the power you have to hurt me?' This would be the only time he mentioned the pain she caused him by her previous behavior.

'I know. I do it on purpose. I dont know if I can stop, but I will try.'

They set they for a while more. He played with a small twig that somehow found it's way into his hand. They each ate exactly one peach. They tried to break the silence - he told her about a flock of birds he saw migrating above the mountains. She told him that she still did not hear any news from Aurora though she promised to inform them of her next visit soon. He was sure this meant nothing.

'I should go' he said eventually and got up. He made a few steps then turned around. 'Do you mind if I paint you?'

She agreed.

He took a few more step and found a place to sit. He took out his notebook and pencils which he carried with him at all times and looked at her. He did not know what possessed him to make this suggestion, and he was surprised that she agreed. She was with her side to him, legs folded, just as before, sitting completely still.

As always, he needed to begin with some unimportant detail to break the whiteness of the page. He took his most delicate pencil and marked the tip of one horn. The he calculated where should be the second horn so that she would fit entirely into the page, including some of the trees behind her. Then with one stroke he painted the line connecting the two dots - the horns themselves and some of the head.

He continued downwards, The contour of her forehead, the eyes, the straight nose. He was not used to be able to look at her like this, with her completely aware of his gaze. He continued to her lips, carefully painting the line between the upper and the lower lips, her chin, her neck and collarbone. He drew the line between her skin and the gown, down to her breasts and her thin waist. His heart was beating faster as he drew the gap between her thighs, her legs, and the small leaves of grass breaking underneath her body.

He drew the wings. Not all feathers lay in the same direction, she did not calm them for a while, and he took the time to paint them one by one. He did not have to _make_ her beautiful. With her all he needed was to be accurate, and he did the best he could. He took time to add some details - her long fingers and the shadows between them, the sparkle in her hair, the pointy ears, and just a few hints of the trees and view behind her.

'You can move now' he said with a loud voice when he finished, and started collecting everything back into his bag.

'May I see it?'

He set by her again and handed her the paper. He ate a few more peaches all while she was still looking at his drawing. 'When did you learn to do this?' she asked. He shrugged his shoulders with a smile ' I dont know'.

By this time the moors were humming with life around them. Some of the creatures that went by said hello or talked for a while.

She waited for a moment of quiet to say 'I also think you are beautiful. I made you a beautiful man'.

He smiled at her. This was the Maleficent he knew. 'You would be unable to make anything that's less than gorgeous mistress, and for this I am grateful.'

He pretended not to notice she was running her fingers through his hair. She touched one of his eyebrows, tracing it from the center to the corner of his eye. She caressed his cheek, all the way down his neck, and to the back of his head. She pulled him slightly closer as she leaned in. When their faces were very close she stopped for a second, uncertain of what she is about to do, and she pressed her lips against his.


End file.
